


Workman's Comp

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: The Golden Years [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sloppy Seconds, Wincestiel - Freeform, generous amounts of lube, the smuttiest retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean missed out on a fun afternoon, but Sam and Castiel make it up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Workman's Comp

The hammer swung low in Dean’s hand, knocking gently against his thigh as he walked. The shed out back had sprung a leak weeks ago, but he’d only just got around to fixing it. Clean up had been a bitch and he was already envisioning stretching out in the tub. The sun had eased up some at least, enough that the sweat on the back of his neck turned to a shiver before he got into the house. 

The main room was empty, Sam’s books jumbled over the coffee table and Castiel’s jigsaw puzzle a few inches further toward completion on the dining room table. The crock pot issued out a thick sweet smell, the promise of one of Sam’s experimental stews in the works filled with spices from places Dean had never seen on a map. The bread Castiel liked to bake, multigrain and seedful, cooled on top of the oven. Dean broke off one end and slathered it with butter, eating it over the sink as he watched the sun slip away under the trees. 

Crumbs and butter smears sluiced off under a cold stream of water. It had been a good day that left him aching, but not impossibly sore. He kicked off his boots and after a second thought, put them by the door. If Cas tripped over them one more time, there’d be a bitter hell to pay. 

He dumped his clothing in the hamper inside the bathroom door, then headed to the bedroom to wake the sleeping beauties from their afternoon nap. It just figured they’d nod off while he was off doing the heavy lifting. 

Only they weren’t quite asleep. Dean stopped in the doorway, breath caught in his throat. Sam was stretched out naked on his stomach (must’ve been a good day, his knee usually couldn’t take that anymore), legs parted and eyes open if a little glassy. Castiel, one of Sam’s ancient button downs ripped open to show nothing but skin underneath, traced his fingers up and down the knobs of Sam’s spine. 

“Jesus.” Dean choked. “I go out to fix this place and you two are making like rabbits?” 

“Sam’s knee wasn’t bothering him. It seemed like an opportune time.” Castiel shrugged, unapologetic and still smiling in that smug little afterglow way. It always made Dean want to bite him. “Besides, I was bored. Come here.” 

Dean crossed the floor in an instant, bending down to take Castiel’s lips. They kissed slow and languid, Castiel making soft contented noises before dropping back to the bed. That left Dean bent over Sam’s prone body, the beautiful softening mess of it. He took up where Castiel left off, trailing fingers down Sam’s broad shoulders and the curve of his back. Unable to resist, he bent down to nip at the mole hosted in the dip where Sam’s back met his his ass. 

“Fuck.” Sam slurred and Dean smiled into his skin. 

“Didn’t think you were still in the land of the living.” 

“M’here.” Sam yawned, rubbed his cheek into the pillow, still seven sometimes despite four decades under his belt. 

“Cas said he got bored.” 

“Mhm.” Sam’s dimple hid in the fall of his hair. “Should’ve seen him. Not sure how I survived.” 

Dean smoothed his hands over the strong curves of Sam’s ass. He spread the cheeks apart, caught the puffy redness of Sam’s hole. Cas must’ve cleaned him up, no shiny trace of lube or flakes of drying come to be found. 

“I think he could’ve taken more.” Castiel got to his knees, leaning into Dean confidentially. “You know how greedy he gets.” 

“Hey.” Sam protested sleepily. 

Dean drifted his thumb down the crack of Sam’s ass, let the pad sit just at Sam’s entrance. He could feel the bruised heat and whatever reservations his cock had packed their bags. Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s growing erection, stroking it with barely there pressure. 

“I can do more.” Dean swallowed. “Right, Sammy?” 

“Uhhh,” Sam’s sated eyes were suddenly all bright awareness, “kinda sore.” 

“I’ll go slow.” He leaned down, kissed across Sam’s shoulders. The hand on his cock went cold and wet, Castiel palming the lube off the side table mostly. He’d gotten good at that. 

“Dean...” 

He eased one finger in, listening at the catch in Sam’s breathing. There wasn’t any resistance, not even when he slid in a second finger and Sam audibly swallowed. 

“Too much?” Dean went still. Teasing was one thing, but if Sam was really hurting then it stopped. 

“Just...sort of a lot. Slow.” 

“Yeah, ok.” 

Castiel’s clean hand tangled into Sam’s hair, petting and tugging a little until he could get at Sam’s mouth. Dean watched them kiss as poured on more lube. Everything took on a humid building heat that spiraled up between the three of them, tightening until the world outside their bed dropped away. 

“C’mere.” Dean tugged a little at Sam’s hips and got him up onto his knees. Must’ve been a very good day or a relaxing lay because Sam didn’t even wince with so much pressure on the bad joint. "Gorgeous like this." 

They didn’t get to do this often anymore and Dean relished the way he could rest his forehead in the valley between Sam’s shoulders as he slid into him. The punched out sound Sam let loose went straight into Castiel’s waiting mouth. 

“Okay?” Dean asked, sliding his hands around to caress Sam’s stomach and grip at Castiel’s hip. He wanted them both closer, no inch left untouched. 

“I can’t...it’s bad and good and...I don’t know.” Sam laughed weakly. “God, Cas. How do you do this all the time.” 

“I like the hurt.” Castiel smiled. “When it burns. I like knowing that I’ll still feel you both the next day. Every twinge, every ache. That’s what you do to me. Reshape me.” 

“Oh.” Sam kissed him, the way Dean wanted to in that moment. Slow and deep and dirty tongue. Instead, Dean gripped at Sam’s hips and thrust to match their kiss. Sam groaned, a good groan. The pain giving way to something better or mixing into it. 

The bed shifted and creaked as Dean fucked with painfully slow precision into Sam’s exhausted flesh. Castiel dropped to the mattress, took Sam’s confused cock into his mouth and set it straight. It went on long enough that the lube started to dry out and Dean had to add more, slopping it over fingers, sheets and Sam’s reddened hole. Everything was too slick and hot. Dean got a little dizzy from it, sipping in oxygen around Sam's salted skin. 

“Could do this forever.” He surged forward again, an ocean tide of pleasure. 

“No. You can’t.” Sam corrected, but he sounded a little wistful. 

And Dean couldn’t. He came eventually like the tide running out, forehead pressed tight to Sam’s shoulders. He pulled out with infinite care, then collapsed on his side. If he had been a little younger, the sight of Castiel pushing Sam back down onto the sheets and taking him down to the root might’ve gotten Dean hard again. 

“Fuck, Cas, I don’t think I can... Came so hard before. Don't have anything left.” Sam sputtered, fingers clenching weakly against the sheets. 

“Of course you can.” Castiel pulled off long enough to give Sam a stern glare. “You can and you will.” 

Without any warning, Castiel twisted two fingers into Sam, then swallowed him back down. Sam keened and arched off the bed. Dean captured one of Sam’s scrambling hands and held on. When Sam came back down, sweat had beaded across his forehead. Castiel sat back, wiping his mouth off on the back of his arm. His own pretty cock still limp as a cooked spaghetti. Cas never did get hard twice in a day, had a difficult enough time doing it once. Never seemed to dim his satisfaction. Even now, he looked as fucked out and content as Sam. 

“You planned that.” Dean decided. 

“Did I?” Castiel replied, guileless in a way Dean never believed any more. 

“Who cares?” Sam stretched until several joints cracked ominously. “Someone go fill up the bathtub.” 

“Yes, your majesty.” Dean levered himself up, brushing a kiss over Sam’s nose just to watch it wrinkle up in protest. Then he gave one to Cas, more squarely on the mouth. “You should get bored more often.” 

“Mm.” Castiel curled catlike up into Sam’s side. “Maybe I should.” 

It took some doing to get them all clean and dry, Sam’s knee finally remembered its aches and Castiel kept wandering off to check on dinner still dripping across the floor. They managed though and they ate dinner on the porch, hot bowls of stew balanced on their knees and cold beers between their feet.

The fireflies were out in droves, lighting up the yard better than fireworks. Castiel slipped from his chair to sit at Dean’s feet, head on his knee. Sam grinned and reached out, palm up. Dean made a face, but after a hesitant moment, reached out and slid his fingers into Sam’s. The fireflies sent their mating wishes in Morse code across the tall grass, finding love in unexpected places.


End file.
